


Falling backwards through time

by hope_calaris



Series: The Road to Hell (is Paved With Good Intentions) [23]
Category: The Tomorrow People (2013)
Genre: Dirty Bad Wrong, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_calaris/pseuds/hope_calaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had never planned on meeting Jedikiah again. Not like this. Not without backup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling backwards through time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/gifts).



_I will never end up like him  
Behind my back, I already am_

\- Fall Out Boy

 

He’s made a habit out of it. Sneaking away to visit Irene in hospital, telling her sleeping form random tidbits and sometimes things he hasn’t even told Cara. Not that he and Cara speak much these days, because every time he looks at her he sees betrayal in her eyes, and he can’t forget what she did to Kurt. The sheer coldness and purposefulness in her moves when she delivered the serum had astonished him. And for a split second he though they weren’t that different, after all, him and Cara, because they’re both ready to do whatever it takes to protect their people. But then he realized how silly his thought was, because there’s really not much similarity between killing someone and taking his powers.

So he ends up here again, alone on the sidewalk outside the hospital, the fall wind harvesting the last leaves from the trees in the street. Irene’s doing better, or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. At least she doesn’t look like death warmed over any longer.

“This isn’t like you, exposing yourself like this out in the open. You must be tired.”

His breath catches in his throat, because, yes, this isn’t like him at all. Not to notice his biggest enemy standing right behind him, casually leaning against a wall. It looks like Jedikiah waited to pick up a friend from a sick bed visit. He thinks about teleporting, but in this moment Jedikiah reaches out and cups his right wrist.

“It wouldn’t be polite to just leave, now would it?” Jedikiah says and his thumb runs gentle circles over John’s pulse point. It feels like floating and falling into an abyss at the same time, and it leaves him breathless. “Come on,” Jedikiah goes on and smiles at him, “I hear there’s a decent bar around the corner from here. You look like you could need a drink -- or three. It’s on me.” And that’s so absurd and tempting at the same time, John just stares. When he still doesn’t react a few seconds later, Jedikiah steps closer and cups John’s neck with his free hand, tugging him so close he can whisper into his ear. “I swear your little friend in there won’t get hurt, not even taken in, if you just share a drink with me. Surely it’s not that bad of a deal, right? You used to enjoy our dinners, after all.”

And the crux of the matter is that Jedikiah is right. He could use a drink, and he liked having dinner and drinks with Jedikiah -- but that was a lifetime ago.

“Her name’s Irene, right? Seems to be a bubbly little genius, as far as I can tell,” Jedikiah whispers into his ear. “Would be a shame to deprive the world of a possible noble prize winner just because you didn’t care for a drink.”

John shivers and feels himself nodding, because there’s really no contest in his mind. He already let his people get hurt once when he allowed them topside, he won’t risk Irene’s life because he feels sick just thinking about sharing a table with his former mentor again. “Promise,” he croaks and stares at Jedikiah’s eyes.

“I promise,” Jedikiah replies and presses a soft kiss to John’s cheek. “I just want to spend some time with you. I missed you.”

That he missed Jedikiah as well is on the tip of John’s tongue, but he stops himself in the last moment. But it must’ve shown on his face, because Jedikiah gets that look he only ever got when he knew John would follow his every lead.

“You don’t have to say it,” is what Jedikiah generously offers then, “I know.” And John can’t decide if he wants to punch that smirk off his face or kiss it away. As much as he hates Jedikiah, and they both know he does, he’s still drawn to this man like a moth to burning fire. He’s long ago accepted that it will kill him one day. John risks one last glance up to what he thinks must be Irene’s dark hospital room, before he follows Jedikiah down the street.

The bar is dark and dingy, and John actually has to laugh at Jedikiah’s surprised face when they enter. It’s nowhere near _decent_ , and Jedikiah mutters something about reliable information, but eventually shrugs and leads them to a table far away from any other customers. “At least no one will disturb us now,” he points out when they sit down. It’s a table with four seats, but Jedikiah choses to sit right next to John, and suddenly he can smell the man’s aftershave. It’s the same one he used when -- John closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. This time is behind him, he left Ultra, he left _Jedikiah_ \-- but that doesn’t seem to matter, because Jedikiah’s started to trace invisible patterns on the sleeve of John’s leather jacket with his fingertips, and John’s stomach does a somersault. He folds his hands in his lap because he isn’t sure what he’d do otherwise with them -- it’s a fine line between strangling and hugging Jedikiah.

“What -- ” he hates how weak his voice sounds, “what do you want?”

“Oh, darling … ” Jedikiah’s hand comes to a rest on top of John’s hand, and it feels so alien and welcoming at the same time he feels dizzy. “Nothing you’re not ready to give.”

And these words are like a blow to the stomach, because there’s been a time John was ready to give all of himself to this man, to bow to all of his whishes, but he liked to think he was past this. He isn’t so sure about it right now, though, because Jedikiah next to him feels good. To hear his voice, to see that hint of mischief and humor in his eyes, and above all to feel the warmth of his touch again -- it’s filling a hole he’s tried his best to ignore for the last few years.

“Haven’t you taken enough already?” he says and stares at Jedikiah’s hand. He can’t decide if he wants it to stay there or not.

“The way I remember it,” Jedikiah says, his voice low, “you were only to keen on giving once upon a time. I merely accepted what you had to offer.”

“That’s not  -- ” but John has to stop, because it _is_ true. No matter how good of a liar and manipulator Jedikiah is, he never forced John. Everything John did was freely offered. He had _wanted_ Jedikiah’s attention, his warm and gentle touch. He had wanted to be seen. The same things he wants now. It’s a devastating thought, and he hangs his head in shame.

“Oh, John.” Jedikiah grabs John’s chin and forces him to look into his eyes. “Nothing to be ashamed of, darling. We are who we are. And you … you are someone special.”

And he’s right; of course he is -- because Jedikiah made him someone special. A freak among freaks.  Someone who doesn’t fit anywhere anymore. Once again, he’s an orphan with no place to call his own. He’s just passing by pretending. And right now he’s sitting next to the only person who knows the real him, who actually knows there’s someone else hidden behind this façade.

“You didn’t tell anyone else, did you?” Jedikiah asks. “What did you tell them how Killian went away? That you managed to convince him?” He’s grinning now, like he’s the only one who understands a particularly funny joke. “Those fools. They don’t deserve you. But what about that Ultra agent you killed at the club? Did your friends see that? How you took someone’s life without a second thought?”

“Don’t,” John pleads and Jedikiah pats his hand.

“Don’t worry. Every agent knows how dangerous this job is. You know what I always say.” He nudges John with his shoulder.

“Kill or be killed,” is John’s soft spoken answer.

“Kill or be killed,” Jedikiah repeats. “You understand it now, finally. I’m proud of you.”

John’s heard these words before, has felt Jedikiah touch him like this. And still … it feels new and exciting, igniting a fire in his belly he’d almost forgotten. Jedikiah’s turned to slowly rub his back, and John leans into his touch without a conscious thought. It’s like muscle memory he can’t get rid of, but then he isn’t sure if he even wants to forget about this.

“How about we get out of this dive?” Jedikiah asks, his voice a low rumble next to John’s ear.

“But the drinks?” he asks, and only realizes how naïve he’s been when Jedikiah laughs.

“I have a good scotch back home,” Jedikiah says and his hand comes to a rest on John’s hip. “You remember where it is?”

“Of course,” John replies and then thinks he shouldn’t so readily admit something like this to Jedikiah. It’s only more ammunition for a man who already has too much power over him.

“Good.” Jedikiah’s arm around John tugs him upwards and suddenly they’re standing so close together it’s like Jedikiah is the only other being in this room, encompassing all of his vision. His breath hitches in his throat and he can do nothing but stare.

“I think -- ,” he whispers, but Jedikiah’s finger on his lips stops him.

“You think too much, darling.” And then Jedikiah’s finger’s gone, and they’re kissing. Like years ago, it still sets John’s whole word on fire, erasing any rational thought from his mind. It only matters that Jedikiah is here, that Jedikiah still wants him, that he’s still worthy of his attention.

Just before he teleports them out of the dark corner, John wonders how he could ever delude himself into thinking he could survive without Jedikiah.

_\- fin_


End file.
